


Crazy in Love

by SoftObsidian74



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ableist Language, Community: femmefest, F/F, HP: EWE, Internalized Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:50:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes crazy is the most sane choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazy in Love

**Author's Note:**

>  [](http://s289.photobucket.com/user/SoftObsidian74/media/lesbians_48289408-1.jpg.html)
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> [](http://s289.photobucket.com/user/SoftObsidian74/media/TGSbanner-1-1.jpg.html)  
>    
> 

I open my eyes to wisps of blonde hair spilling over the cream-coloured sheets. Some of it tickles my skin and I laugh to myself, as I do so often these days. She looks funny, sleeping face down on the pillow like that, her hair wild and spread out everywhere, just like her limbs. One of her arms lays stretched over my belly. She doesn’t snore; I can barely see her breathing. Luna Lovegood is just as serene in sleep as she is awake. But I suppose when you’re mental, you either worry entirely too much, or you don’t worry about much at all.

Oh yes, Luna is crazy. Brilliant, beautiful, insightful, intuitive, but completely mental.

And to be fair, so am I. Because I’m lying here beside her, and I have no plans to leave.

Gazing up at our ceiling, the stucco swirls remind me of pinwheel-shaped lollies. Those funny multi-coloured kind she still loves to purchase from HoneyDukes.

I remember the first time I saw her sucking on one. It had been the year we all returned to Hogwarts. After the madness of war, another sort of craziness set in, only it didn’t affect anyone else, just me. That was the year Ron and I had started going steady. It was also the year I began to really notice Luna. Not as a strange, awkward personality, or a loyal comrade, but as a girl, no, a woman.

Yes, I do believe that was the year the madness began…

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

_October 1998_

“Ron, please, can we go to the Three Broomsticks now? I would like to sit down; my feet are beginning to hurt. Besides, how much candy do you intend to buy? You’re going to make yourself sick eating all of that!”

“I’m stocking up for the rest of term, Hermione,” Ron replied matter-of-factly, as if it were a normal thing to do.

“How strategic,” I replied coolly.

When Ron beamed at me proudly, as if he had just had the most clever idea, I couldn’t help but wonder ‘Why? Why do I love this boy so much?’

Sometimes that question kept me up at night.

I was almost relieved when he returned to his candy-collecting mission.

“Hello, Hermione,” said a soft, quiet voice behind me.

I turned and was stunned by the sight of ghastly hair. Luna’s mane was always a little unkempt, not unlike Harry’s, but she made it worse sometimes by decorating it with odd beads and knick-knacks. But on that day, blue streaks marred her blonde locks. At least they matched her blue trainers.

“Hello, Luna,” I said, trying to pretend I didn’t notice anything strange.

“You usually don’t come in here,” she remarked.

I shrugged. “Trying something new, I suppose.”

Her eyes took note of my empty hands. “Aren’t you going to get anything?”

I looked back at the shelves where Ron was struggling to manage all of the candy in his basket while searching for more.

“I think Ron is getting enough for the both of us.”

Luna’s stare moved past me to study him. “You and Ron make a very interesting couple…”

“Interesting?” I asked, bristled by her vague choice of words.

“Yes,” she said. “On the outside looking in, one would never think you two could be a match. Actually, it seems rather unlikely.”

I coughed, choking on Luna's audacity and lack of tact, although it should have not come as any surprise.

“Pardon me?”

Her cheeks flushed and she reached out to grab my arm in an effort to appease. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I didn’t mean to offend.”

I shuddered.

“There must be a draft in here,” I said, pulling my arm out of her grip, my eyes searching the shoppe for my boyfriend. But Ron was two rows deep inside the chocolate section.

When I looked back, Luna had a lolly in her hand.

“Would you like one?” she offered.

“No,” I said in disapproval. “Shouldn’t you pay for that before you eat it?”

“Oh, I will.” She smiled, unwrapping it. 

I shifted uncomfortably, looking around once more as if Ron would magically appear beside me. When I looked back, Luna was licking the lolly.

It seemed innocent enough, but there was something dirty about it. 

Perhaps it was the way her little pink tongue gingerly lapped at the lolly as if it was something to be revered and loved, or maybe it was the way she kept her eyes on me while she did it. Her stare was beguiling. But really, what was most disconcerting was the way Luna curled her tongue into her mouth, wetting those tender thin lips before slowly swallowing the residue and humming in satisfaction.

I had to tear my eyes away and search for a new thought. But nothing came to mind, and the image of her licking that damned lolly wouldn’t go away.

At the time, I thought that perhaps she’d cast some sort of spell on me or slipped me a love potion. That was the only logical explanation for why I would be so transfixed by her mouth, or why watching her lap at candy made me blush.

At least that’s what I had told myself. I was in love with a boy, after all.

Still, the image of Luna’s perfect mouth licking and savouring that lolly stayed in my head for weeks.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

Now, as I lay here smiling to myself I know what I felt for Ron wasn’t love at all. Not the kind of love I thought it was: only familiarity and friendship. But back then, no one could tell me that I wasn’t in love with Ron Weasley, or heterosexual.

Especially not Luna. 

After leaving school, I saw her several times, more than I cared to think of. As a matter of fact, Luna always seemed to be where I was. I tried to rationalise that it was perfectly natural, since we shared so many mutual friends. However, it was hard not to notice that most of our friends were busy starting new careers and new families, so running into anyone was getting harder to do. Still, Luna, always managed to run into me. 

She was friendly enough; always had a pleasant smile and kind word. But somehow, even then, I knew there was more there — a quiet call from her spirit, inviting me in. At first, I resisted it…

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

_March 2000_

It was afternoon, and I was doing research in the hidden magical section of The British Library in preparation for my thesis in Runes. I’d been there for many hours and had spread out at one particular table. Well, I must have fallen asleep because one minute I was alone, and the next, Luna was there, sitting right beside me. I bolted into an upright position, my mouth agape. She just smiled. That insipid, dreamy smile that can enchant and infuriate me, depending on my mood.

“Luna, what are you doing here?” I asked tersely.

“Well I saw you sitting here, and I wanted to say ‘hi’ but you were asleep, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“So you decided to sit here and watch me sleep? How is that not disturbing?”

Then she smiled that crazy smile again and placed her hand over mine on the table.

The touch of her palm was like pure electricity: a tingling sensation surged through me and my eyelids fluttered.

No doubt those were first signs of madness setting in. Of course, I had no idea back then.

I withdrew my hand as if it had been touched by fire and made quick work of organising the mess of documents spread out before me.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked, keeping my eyes on my papers as I straightened them into neat little piles.

“Oh, I was just in the neighbourhood. I love this library; it’s very lovely. But…” she paused, her eyes shifting from left to right.

My curiosity piqued, I had to lean in. “What?”

“Be careful going into the stacks… I’m afraid the Chizpurfle have taken up residence there. Usually they aren’t a bother, but you don’t want to be surrounded by a swarm of them— it’ll make you dizzy.”

My brow furrowed as I looked at her plainly. “Luna…”

“Yes?”

I paused. Her blue eyes were so earnest, so big, and they were focused on me. It made my heart race a little bit faster, and a flutter stirred in my stomach. Honestly, I completely lost my train of thought; which isn’t entirely uncommon when speaking with Luna. But it is quite unnerving. I had to pull myself together, I mean, this was Luna! She was loony, and… and a girl.

Desperate for an anchor to pull me back to sanity, I thought of a way to excuse myself and mention my boyfriend's name.

“Nothing, I, uh, I was just about to say that I have to leave soon. Ron and I have a lovely dinner planned.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Ron is very romantic,” I insisted.

“That’s surprising,” Luna said. “He doesn’t strike me as particularly romantic.”

I shot her a glare so contentious that it forced her to drop her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I did it again, didn’t I? Hermione, what I meant was—”

“That’s quite all right, Luna,” I forced out.

Luna tilted her head, her eyes searching mine. “I didn’t mean to be impolite. What I meant to say was that my impression of Ron is that he’s a very nice person, but not always very thoughtful. However, I’m sure he can be very caring when he puts his mind to it. Although he does wear his heart on his sleeve which makes him more than a little oversensitive.”

I raised my eyebrow, challenging her to finish.

She visibly swallowed before speaking cautiously again. “What I mean is, it’s not that I think he can’t be romantic, but that sometime he may get too lost in his own feelings to really understand the feelings and needs of those around him.”

I gaped back at her, completely at a loss for words.

How did she know?

At the realization that Luna had come dangerously close to reciting my latest musings on Ron, I pursed my lips and raised my nose.

“Just as I thought,” I said resolutely. “You really don’t know Ron at all.”

“Oh… I see,” she said, frowning. “Well I apologize again for misspeaking. I really meant no offense. My opinion really doesn’t matter anyway. All that matters is that you’re happy. You are happy, aren’t you, Hermione?”

“Of course!” I said emphatically, my high-pitched voice barely recognizable to my own ears.

“Good. I’m happy too. Well, mostly. There is one thing that would make me much happier,” she said, her eyes intense even in their dreaminess. 

An inexplicable lump began to form in my throat, and I couldn’t even utter the question begging to be asked.

Why would I care anyway? Whatever would make Luna happy probably involved imaginary creatures or odd jewellery.

“Ah, look at the time,” I said. “I really have to go.”

She sighed in disappointment. “That’s too bad. I was hoping we could go for a walk, maybe get a spot of tea.”

“Some other time, perhaps?” I gathered my things, well, more like threw them into my bag.

I stood abruptly, giving her a quick obligatory goodbye. “Talk to you later.”

“Soon, I hope,” she said with a hint of innuendo. At least that’s what I thought I heard in her sugary tone.

“Right,” I said, turning to leave, practically running out of there.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

I should have known then. But going crazy can be an insidious process. Although the seeds of insanity had been planted, it would be some time before I could see the fruits of it clearly.

Not that I wanted to see it. It is true what they say: Ignorance can be bliss. I had convinced myself I was very happy with the idea of Ron and I making a family. In fact, I was positively committed to it. I wanted to be a traditional sort of woman, with my sanity intact. Not that heterosexuality equates to sanity, goodness no. That’s not what I mean, really. I know far too many unstable straights to ever believe in such rubbish. This isn’t about my sexuality. Well, perhaps a little.

To be honest, I still struggle sometimes with my new sexual identity. But I’m much more comfortable in my skin now than I was at first. Back then, I was in complete denial. Not because I was afraid of being gay or anything. I mean, I champion the rights of the marginalized and oppressed, so one could hardly call me homophobic. I was just… scared. Scared of the unknown, scared of not checking off all of those things people expected me to do, like marrying a man and having his children. Of course, now I know better.

But the first time I really had to wrestle with these things was a bit of a shock. Actually, that’s an understatement; I was downright infuriated with Luna for opening my eyes to who I really was…

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

_June-August 2000_

One warm evening in June, Ron suggested we go to a pub. I really didn’t want to go, but Ron insisted we go because all of our old classmates would be there. The pub was crowded, and I really hate crowds, but it was very nice to see everyone. Over the past year, life had somehow got in the way of spending time with friends. I especially enjoyed reconnecting with Neville and Hannah; they’re the sweetest people you’ll ever meet.

Ron had a few too many Firewhiskeys that evening. Both he and Harry were really getting on my last nerve. I could barely make conversation with our friends for their interrupting and laughter, and I was already in a bad mood from the start. Lately it seemed as if Ron was spending more time in the pub and with Harry than with me. And once those two started drinking, I was always the third wheel. I don’t drink, at least not usually. Losing the full use of my mental facilities and taking in empty calories doesn’t appeal to me.

But then she came in.

I hate clichés, but when I say Luna lights up a room, I mean it. I think it’s her golden hair, or perhaps it’s those big eyes. No, it’s the bright smile. Yes, that’s definitely it.

That night she wore pink streaks in her hair and they matched the bangles around her wrists, and her Converse trainers.

When she slid into the booth to sit beside me, the pub’s temperature went up at least ten degrees.

“Hello, Hermione,” she said, kissing me swiftly on the cheek.

I froze, and then quickly recovered. “Uh, hello, Luna.”

We exchanged polite pleasantries and then fell into uncomfortable silence, watching on as our classmates gave updates on their lives and relived the past.

No one was really talking to me, and for some reason I didn’t really feel like jumping in to join the conversation. Soon enough they all broke off into small cliques and couples, leaving Luna and I alone. If I wasn’t sweating before, I was then.

“Would you like a drink, Hermione?”

“No, Luna. I don’t drink,” I said stiffly.

“Oh? Dad says that the bacteria in beer has a magical ingredient good for lifting the spirits.”

“That would be the alcohol, Luna.”

“Oh no, Dad specifically said it’s something magical,” she said with confidence.

I rolled my eyes, searching desperately for someone else to speak to, but everyone was still very engaged in conversation, and public displays of affection. Neville and Hannah were practically snogging in front of us. I shifted in my seat.

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Luna said. “How you can be in a room full of people and feel alone.”

I turned to her, nearly gasping.

She smiled. “But you’re not, Hermione. Alone that is.”

I couldn’t even summon up words; suddenly she seemed very close, her eyes larger than life as they peered at me. My cheeks were burning, and I scanned the room to see if anyone was taking note of our odd interaction, our proximity.

When she put her hand over mine on the table, I quickly snatched it out from under and finished off my water while eyeing the pitcher of beer in the centre of the table. Having a beer or two suddenly seemed like a more attractive option, and I threw my rule against drinking alcohol out the window in favour of dulling my senses (and awareness).

I’m not sure exactly when it happened, probably somewhere between the third and fourth glass of beer. But I wasn’t too inebriated to understand or remember what was happening.

Ginny joined us briefly in the booth, practically pushing Luna into my lap. It was the first time I actually felt her hair on my skin. It was so soft, and I detected the scent of flowers and something uniquely sweet that could only be Luna. I almost closed my eyes to sniff her, but caught myself.

Hannah and Neville were officially locked in a drunken kiss, and Ron and Harry had joined Seamus and Dean for an intense wizarding darts challenge.

Parvati and Padma came over and pulled Ginny into a corner for gossip, leaving Luna and I alone once again. But Luna didn’t move over, instead she kept her body smashed against mine as if she had no choice.

It felt rather nice.

I giggled, and she turned to smile at me.

“What’s so funny, Hermione?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said, suppressing another smile as I took a huge gulp of my pint.

Her eyes were still on me. “Hermione, has anyone ever told you how bewitching are you? You’re like a Spandle fairy.”

I almost spit out my beer. “Spandle fairy?”

“Yes. They’re very smart and beautiful, but they only hatch once every fifty years or so. Most people haven’t seen one, and if they do, chances are, they wouldn’t realize what a privilege it is to see one. You’re like that.”

That did it. I laughed outright. “Luna, honestly, I’ve never heard of such a thing. And even if it did exist, I hardly think I can be compared to one. I’m about as average as they come in the looks department.”

She leaned in, and I turned curiously to see what she was up to. Her forehead met mine with the softest bump, and she just…stayed there, her brow leaning against mine.

“You’re wrong.”

I gulped, unable to argue with her. Her closeness and insistence on my attractiveness was giving me a distinctly different buzz than the alcohol coursing through my veins.

“I was hoping to see you get tipsy,” she whispered.

“Is that so?” I asked quietly as one about to be told a secret.

“Yes,” she whispered so soft I thought I imagined it.

I closed my eyes. I don’t know why. I mean, I don’t think I was expecting anything.

“And why would you want to see me tipsy?” I asked with hardly any air. For some reason my breath was coming in short and fast.

“Because I knew it would make you smile. I haven’t seen you smile in a long time, Hermione,” she said, gently rubbing her forehead against mine.

And then crazy happened— her lips touched mine. They were so soft and gentle, I didn’t want to pull away. In fact, I kissed her back. That is, until I came to my senses. When I did, I jerked back immediately, staring at her in surprise. My entire face hot as if I had been drinking and dancing. I darted my eyes to Hannah and Neville, but they were still snogging. Then I searched out for Ron, but the crowd of men gathered around the dartboard hid him from view.

I just kissed Luna Lovegood.

Oh god.

“What are you doing, you freak!” I said pushing her away. She gaped at me, taken aback, and right away I felt terrible about what I’d said. But it was already out. She slid out of the booth, her face flushed with shame, and I climbed out quickly, nearly toppling a waitress.

I didn’t even look back, or search for Ron, I just Apparated straight home.

Several days passed before I saw Luna again. Mostly due to my clever avoidance of all of the places I’d run into her before. But it didn’t last long. She managed to find me on my way home from University.

As soon as I spotted her blonde locks and thin frame, I practically sprinted across the street. I kept my eyes straight ahead as if I hadn’t seen her.

But then she called my name, and goodness, that little bird can run very fast.

“Hermione, please…”

Cursing under my breath, I slowly turned to face her.

Worry was sketched all over her face, and those big blue eyes were clouded with doubt and contrition.

“I just want to apologise—”

“Forget it, Luna. It was just a silly mistake,” I said, trying to laugh it off, but my laughter sounded quite forced. “We were both drinking a lot.”

“I didn’t really have that much to drink.”

I groaned. Did she always have to be so painfully honest?

“Luna…”

“No, Hermione, please listen. I feel like we have a special connection.”

I shook my head, giving her a pitying look. “The only connection we have is that we’re friends. We’ve been through a lot together. I think you’re confusing that with…something else.”

“But it’s more than that—I like you. I like you a lot.”

“I like you too, Luna, but not in that way. I have a boyfriend, and I’m straight.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I’m sure!” I snapped.

“If you ever feel like perhaps you’re not, or... you’re unsure about whether you are, you can talk to me about it.”

“Thanks,” I managed through gritted teeth, promptly turning on my heel to walk away.

By the time I arrived at home, I was absolutely livid. How dare that bizarre loony suggest I was bent; I was the brightest witch of my age, I’d think I’d know if I were gay!

I waited for Ron to arrive, and as soon as he entered the door, I pounced on him and snogged him silly. All he could do was stand there and struggle to hold me up while I forced my tongue down his throat. Of course, he loved every minute of it.

I, on the other hand, was not nearly as pleased. It didn’t matter that I was kissing Ron, all I could think about was her.

That was the night I lost my virginity. I rationalised that I had been foolish to hold onto it like it was some precious treasure. It was just a thin layer of skin really. So I dragged Ron into the bedroom to be done with it once and for all.

It was rubbish.

Ron was so hard, big, and ungraceful. His hands were rough, and his movements were clumsy and self-involved, focused mostly on achieving his own pleasure.

Well, maybe I’m being a bit unfair. Perhaps if I had actually wanted to shag him, I would have enjoyed it.

That didn’t stop him from enjoying it though; apparently he was very excited about the sudden turn of events. Thank goodness for that because it was over before you could say Crumpled-Horned Snorkacks. As we lay there in bed afterwards, him sated and heavy on top of me, and I, deep in thought, he whispered. “I love you, Hermione.”

All I could do was close my eyes and sigh.

Over the next several weeks, I tried several times to prove my heterosexuality— in the shower, in the living room, sitting in a rocking chair, standing up against the wall, even on the kitchen table. I approached the act with the same determination and focus I gave any examination. But after each encounter, it became painfully clear that I was not excelling in heterosexuality, especially with Ron. There was a complete and utter lack of excitement, which required me to perform a special lubricating spell to make things less uncomfortable. I could tell that my inability to get prepared without assistance was making Ron uncomfortable and insecure, which in turn made me feel guilty and angry with myself. So when he asked me after another gruelling romp if I was “getting off”, I completely snapped.

“What do you mean, am I getting off? Of course I’m getting off! You hear me making sounds of pleasure.”

When his face still reflected scepticism, I scowled, putting the fear of a good tongue lashing into him.

“I-I just want to be sure,” he stammered. “I’m really enjoying it, and I want to make sure you’re enjoying it too.”

Relieved he wasn’t going to push me further, I smiled and ran my hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Ron. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I just don’t want you to feel bad about the lubricating spell. It’s not you, it’s me. My body just doesn’t produce enough on its own.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” I lied.

Ron exhaled loudly in relief. “Oh thank goodness. I was beginning to worry you weren’t attracted to me or something. I don’t want this to ever end, Hermione. I love having sex with you.”

“Is that all I am to you? Sex?” I asked sternly, as if it meant any more to me.

“Of course not. You’re more to me than a shag. I love you, Hermione. I want to make you my wife. As a matter of fact, what are we waiting for?”

My blood ran cold as alarm bells went off in my head. 

“I mean, we practically live together as it is, and we’re shagging like bunnies,” he continued. “Let’s just make it official.”

When he rose from the bed and got down on one knee beside the bed I completely froze in wide-eyed horror.

Evidently crazy is contagious.

“Oh god, Ron…”

“Listen, I know this is really out of the blue,” he said nervously. “And I don’t have a ring right now, but I’ll get one. What do you say? Hermione, will you marry me?”

The sincerity and hope in his eyes broke my heart because I didn’t really want to say yes. But what were my other options. Say ‘no’? If I did that, what would I be inadvertently saying ‘yes’ to? Luna?

“Yes! Of course,” I said, quickly, vanquishing all other options, and the possibility that I could ever want a girl. Especially that girl.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

I’m very good at deluding myself. It’s the curse of being so logical. I can rationalise anything. But crazy people do that too. Even now, I wonder which was nuttier: pretending not to want Luna for so long, or falling in love with her while planning a wedding. Really, it started innocently, with a simple cup of tea…

 

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

_September 2000_

I had taken to walking home from University, instead of Apparating. It was good exercise, and it gave me time to think. There was so much planning to do for the wedding, and frankly, I wasn’t in a rush to get home. Ron always beat me there, and spending time with him alone had become more difficult since our engagement.

One particular afternoon on my way home, I passed a local tea shoppe, and spotted her right away. She was sitting in the window, reading and twirling her hair around her finger.

I really shouldn’t have stopped, but I paused for a long moment, debating about whether to go in. I have no idea why I felt compelled to go inside and greet her, but I just couldn’t walk away.

When I entered the café, she didn’t even look up, and it took a few moments of standing by her table for her to finally notice me.

“Hermione,” she said with a surprised smile.

“Hi, Luna… I was on my way home and saw you through the window,” I explained awkwardly.

“I’m glad you came inside. Would you like to sit and have a tea with me?”

“Well… I really have a lot to do. Going to school and planning a wedding is quite taxing,” I said with unnecessary exasperation.

She frowned. “A wedding? I’d heard rumours but there’s been no announcement in the papers.”

“Well it’s true, and the announcement will be appearing very soon,” I said pushing out my hand to give her a proper view of my engagement ring.

“Oh,” she said, studying it, her face impassive.

“Yes, it took me by surprise too. But as I said before, Ron is very romantic.”

She continued to stare down at the thing as if it were a puzzle. Finally her eyes lifted to meet mine.

“You must be very excited,” she said, but it wasn’t a statement— it was a question.

“Of course,” I said in a matter of fact tone. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Her stare was unwavering. “Are you sure you don’t have time for a tea?”

I opened my mouth to protest and then reconsidered. How odd that she didn’t congratulate me, actually it was really quite rude. So why did she want me to stay? Was she going to try and talk me out of it? Or perhaps she was going to proffer a new assessment of my relationship with Ron. Either way, I was too curious not to take a seat. But my guard was up, and my eyes were watchful.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” she said, glancing up at the window.

“Yes, it is,” I said.

She took a sip of her tea, and then set it down. “So, Hermione, I know that you’re studying at University, but I never hear of you speak of it. What exactly are you studying? And how do you like it so far?”

No one ever really asked me about University. Everyone was so wrapped up in their own careers and lives. They often gave me strange looks whenever I spoke of having a paper due or studying for an exam, so I had learned not to discuss it.

My eyes settled on hers, and I do no exaggerate when I say it was as if someone had imbued me with Calming Draught. Witch, indeed.

“Hermione?”

“Ah yes, University…I love it. And not just the lessons, although those are my favourite. There are so many fascinating subjects. It was hard to pick just one to major in. Of course I could have double majored or even triple majored, but ultimately I decided to focus my studies on ancient languages.”

“That’s a good choice,” she said. “I remember you being fond of Runes…What do you hope to do with that?”

“Well, there are so many options. For instance…”

And just like that, I fell into a comfortable conversation with Luna. I blabbered on and on about ancient Runes, and it’s practicality to modern wizarding practice in history, the arts, and politics, and she just sat there, listening intently. I couldn’t ask for more. Whenever I had tried to talk about my love of Runes with Ron, his eyes glazed over, making me feel odd and foolish.

We, rather, I chatted for almost two hours. Time just flew by.

“Oh my, it’s getting late,” I said once I finally closed my mouth long enough to glance up at the skyline. The sun was setting just behind the shoppes.

“Yes, so it is. I love this time of day,” Luna said, glancing up at the sky before turning her eyes onto me. “You know, Hermione, your eyes remind me of dusk. They’re brown, but there’s light in them.”

A strange flutter in my stomach had me turning in my seat in order to wave the cheque over.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll get it,” Luna offered.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. And I’d like to do this again sometime.”

I narrowed my eyes. What did she think this was—some sort of fling?

“I’m sorry, was I being inappropriate again?”

Immediately, I felt silly. Of course this wasn’t anything shady or sordid. It was simply tea in a café. A perfectly friendly tea, and good conversation with a very good friend. I rather enjoyed myself, so why deny myself the pleasure of doing it again…and again?

“No, of course not. This was very relaxing, Luna. I’m glad we had a chance to chat.”

“I like talking to you,” she said in a softer tone. It almost sounded seductive, but not quite. Luna’s very good at subtlety. Sneaky witch.

“The feeling is mutual,” I replied.

“Good, so let’s do it again, soon,” she said.

“Sure.”

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

And so it began.

Even as I lie here now, thinking back on it, I can say for certain that I had no idea it would be the start of what we were to become. But if I am to be honest with myself, I knew it was the start of something.

We’d meet every week, usually Friday afternoons, for tea. And for the most part, I can’t recall exactly what we discussed. It’s always that way with Luna. We talk about everything and nothing, and a lot of it is bizarre, really. Not that it’s incoherent or unintelligent, on the contrary, Luna is very intelligent and a deep thinker. Still, a lot of what we talk about is inconsequential and random. Nonsense really. But you see, nonsense is the language of lunatics, and when I’m with Luna, I seem to be able to speak it quite fluently.

And I love it. I’m addicted to it actually. The more we met, the more attached I became to our meetings. I began to look forward to them, more than any other activity in my life, including classes and seeing my fiancé. I rationalised that it was because I needed a close friend at that point in my life. Being engaged to one, and losing the other to marriage had left me quite lonely.

But that didn’t explain why I spent so much time primping in the mirror and taming my hair on Fridays, or why I’d go through four different outfits before settling on the perfect one to wear, or why my pulse would quicken as I approached the café to meet her.

And it certainly didn’t explain why I had begun dreaming of her. Not in a sexual way. Well, not really. I blame some of that on her. Luna’s always doing quirky things to catch my eye.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

_April 2001_

“How’s the wedding planning coming, Hermione?” she asked as she poured an obscene amount of honey into her teacup.

I rolled my eyes at the mention of my least favourite subject. “Oh, it’s dreadful. So much to do, so little time.”

“Isn’t it in July? That’s only a few months away.”

“Oh, no… we’re postponing it. No summer wedding for me,” I said with relief.

“Oh no,” she said with what sounded like genuine concern. “Why? Summer is the best time of year to get married—the Nargle count is at its lowest.”

“Well… it’s just not enough time.”

“So, when is it scheduled for now?”

I licked my lips and took a long sip of my tea, swearing obscenities in my head. Nearly everyone had asked me that question: Ron, my parents, his mum, Ginny, Harry, my bloody classmates…

“I’m not sure. Soon.”

“Mmm,” was all she managed. But Luna’s monosyllable sounds always say so much. My defences rose to protect my wounded pride and insecurity.

“I have every intention of marrying Ron,” I insisted, “and as soon as we set a new date, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I believe you, Hermione. The question is, do you?”

I narrowed my eyes and set down my cup. “What are you trying to imply? That I don’t want to marry Ron? That I’m sabotaging my own wedding by postponing it? That perhaps I rushed into this because I was scared and needed something familiar to cling to? Is that what you’re suggesting, Luna? Because you’re wrong! You’re absolutely wrong!”

I had worked myself up into a fit. My chest rose and fell from lack of air, the conviction with my words had stolen my breath. I was leaned over the table, glaring at her, my mouth twisted into an indignant scowl. I looked ridiculous. Luna’s face hadn’t changed at all. She was sitting back calmly, staring at me, at me with those big serene eyes.

She tilted her head. “No, I wasn’t suggesting any of those things. It was just that, for a moment, you seemed unsure. But it’s obvious you have your heart set on it.”

“Right,” I said, pulling back, my anger dissipating into embarrassment and self-consciousness. I glanced around the café, and there were a few people looking in my direction. My eyes dropped to my teacup.

“So…” Luna resumed as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “tell me about your colour scheme for the wedding.”

I briefly shut my eyes and groaned. “Luna…I really don’t want to talk about the wedding. I’m sorry.”

“I understand,” she said, smiling sympathetically.

I returned her smile with a grateful one of my own, until she reached up to remove the clip holding up her hair. My mouth went dry as soft golden locks fell all around her face, and I continued to stare as she shook her hair back, letting it cascade behind her. I knew I was gawking, and I tried my best to hide it but I was transfixed. As she leaned back, exposing the creamy smooth flesh of her elegant neck, it crossed my mind that she’d probably mark well if someone were to suckle there. When she gracefully stretched back her arms to gather up her hair, I noticed that the sun illuminated her blonde highlights, not only her hair, but her long eyelashes as well. She looked…ethereal. One of a kind. And for a fleeting moment, I wished she’d kiss me again.

But then she recliped her hair and smiled at me. In that moment, I knew that if I ever were to kiss Luna again, it would have to be initiated by me, and to do so would be…completely unethical. I was getting married, after all.

“What is it, Hermione?”

“Pardon?”

“You look like you wanted to say something.”

I forced myself to look past her, towards the window. “Oh no. I’m just enjoying the view.”

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

She yawns beside me, and I turn expecting to greet sleepy blue eyes, but instead she’s turned over with her back facing me. Even now, I want to stroke her hair. It’s funny, I do that a lot. I stroke her hair, and she strokes my mind. Not a very mutual exchange, but she seems happy with me. As brilliant as people think I am, truth be told, sometimes Luna completely stumps me. She’s a different sort of brilliant. The kind that you can’t acquire from books. It makes for very interesting conversation. Talking to Luna is always an adventure. She’s the most accepting, authentic person I know, which can also be problematic. There are always moments when the conversation turns strange; our words teetering on a tight rope between her authenticity and my propriety.

She always pushes for more—more genuineness, more openness, more vulnerability. And I always resist, giving only enough to honour her sincerity, while keeping the rest to myself. I have to, you see, because with each passing day, my connection to her grows stronger. I know if I completely open myself to her, those last fragile strands of my former self will completely break away, and I simply can’t abide by that. I need some sense of order. I said I was crazy. 

I’m not insane.

Still, whoever I was before is only a shadow of the woman I am now. I have Luna to thank for that. She was persistent; she kept pushing, wearing down all of my rationalisations and defences. Truth is, I was getting tired of hiding behind them…

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

_December 2001_

The café was louder than usual that afternoon. It was very cold outside so many people had stopped in for a cup of hot coffee or chocolate, and the after-work crowd was there, on top of the regulars. I was in a not so cheerful mood, having received a less than outstanding mark on my mid-term Uruz Runes paper.

I coddled my tea, sulking as I stared past Luna out the frosted window. She just sat there watching me.

“You did your best. That’s what’s important.”

My eyes sharpened as I gave her an impatient glare. “Luna, you don’t understand. Every grade is important, especially in University. There are apprenticeships, jobs, and other opportunities at stake here. Besides, I worked my arse off on that paper. Between you and me, I think the professor is threatened by me.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it. It must be very intimidating teaching someone like you.”

I raised my chin, feeling slightly encouraged. Luna always knew how to kiss my wounds.

But then, she always knew how to open new ones as well.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, taking another sip of my tea.

“How does it feel when you get less than a perfect mark?”

I wrinkled my brow, giving her a ridiculous look. “What do you mean? It feels awful! I study hard to earn my marks, and I want to do my best.”

“Yes, I know. But, when you don’t get a perfect mark, do you feel…bad about yourself?”

“No. I mean, not really. It’s just very frustrating because I know I’m capable of earning perfect marks.”

“And what does it mean to you, to earn a perfect mark?” she queried.

“What a bizarre question, Luna. You went to school, what do you think it means? A perfect mark means… well… it means—”

“You’re perfect?”

“No. That’s not what I was going to say,” I lied. “It means my hard work paid off.”

“I see,” she said, gazing at me in that strange way she sometimes does. “You know, Hermione, I think you’re perfect just the way you are. You don’t need perfect marks to prove that, but sometimes I wonder if you know that.”

The tight rope was back, stretched more taut than ever. Her eyes searched mine, looking for truth. Of course, I couldn’t be completely honest with her, I couldn’t even be honest with myself, not about that.

“Yes, I understand that, Luna. I know marks aren’t everything,” I forced out. 

“I’m glad you know that,” she said. “You know what else isn’t everything?”

I bit the inside of my lip in lieu of her bait. I’d spent enough time with Luna to know that when you opened yourself up, she would dive in and swim in all you had to offer, making casual observations. Only her observations are hardly casual to those she observes. Some of things she sees in others can be downright painful to hear out loud. 

“Living by the rules.”

I reached out for my teacup, squeezing it hard between my fingers as I tried to keep my voice steady and nonchalant.

“What are you on about now? What rules?”

“Oh, I think you know. The rules that say if you are a famous war heroine, you have to be straight and marry a man and have children before you’re thirty. The rules that say you have to have perfect marks to get the perfect job, so you can have a brilliant career. Those rules.”

I scoffed. “I’ve never heard of these rules before.”

“Yet, you know them by heart, don’t you? You’ve been working hard to live by them.”

“If you’re referring to my attentiveness to convention and decorum, yes, I do try to uphold certain expectations. We have to be conscious of how our behaviour is perceived by others. We’re not anonymous, you know. People know who we are. We have to set a good example.”

“I see,” Luna said quietly.

She didn’t need to say anything more. Luna had a way of communicating silently. Her simply reply and sad eyes said everything.

Does setting a good example include marrying a man you don’t love?

Or did it mean pretending I didn’t have feelings for a woman? Hell, I was already in love with her.

I withdrew my hands from the table, balling them into fists underneath as I did my best impression of a scowl. But it was an act. I was trying to be offended and angry. Luna saw right through it with those big perceptive eyes of hers, and reached over the table to offer me her hand.

Suddenly the weariness of planning for a wedding I didn’t want, and coming home to a man I didn’t love overcame me. I threw my hands up and covered my face. The tears came without warning, and I cursed Luna under my breath for pricking me so deeply.

You see, I was tired. So very tired of being this person I thought everyone wanted me to be. I didn’t even like that person anymore. I resented her and everyone who loved her, because if they loved that Hermione, then perhaps that meant they wouldn’t love me. The real Hermione Granger. The person I’d been hiding away for the past year and half.

“Hermione…”

I wiped my eyes, trying to regain my composure.

“Yes?”

“Do you…think about me, when I’m not around?”

I shook my head, giving her my best dismissive shtick. “What?”

But she didn’t repeat herself. She simply sat waiting for my reply.

“I—it doesn’t matter, Luna. What kind of question is that anyway? Do you think thinking of someone or being attracted to them means someone should throw all caution to the wind?”

“Yes,” she replied simply.

“And that’s why people think you’re loony! What you’re proposing is completely illogical,” I insisted.

She drew her hand back protectively, but when she spoke, her voice was as calm as ever. “No, it’s not illogical, but it is risky. They’re not the same thing.”

I huffed, feeling something pressing against my heart, making it hurt. “Luna, I can’t, all right? I’m getting married for God’s sake! We’ve finally set a date. We’ve invited people. Besides, how do you know this would even work? We’re nothing alike.”

“Neither are you and Ron,” she replied.

“You annoy me a lot,” I said pointedly, hoping to make her hurt a little, the way she was hurting me.

“I also make you smile,” she said matter-of-factly.

“And you’re very, very strange.”

“So are you.”

“I am not strange! I’m perfectly normal,” I said with indignation.

“Do you think normal means straight?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Hermione, strange is good. Problem is, you don’t know it,” she said.

I was fixing my mouth to form another protest when she flashed me the most disarming smile. It was so full of hope and admiration, it made me pause and consider what she was offering me.

But the last few strands of sanity I had left pulled me back to reason. “And what if…what if we don’t work out? What then?”

Once again, Luna stretched out her hand out over the table, and I stared down at her nimble fingers as I held my own hand to my chest. She waited, and waited as my grip on my blouse slowly loosened. My hand tentatively descended to the surface of the table, visibly trembling. With gentle force, she drew into hers, and for once, I didn’t pull back. I didn’t even glance around to see if anyone was watching. All that mattered at that moment were Luna’s next words. They had to be perfect. Whatever she was about to say had to be powerful. It had to be convincing enough to lure me away from the safety of the familiar and draw me into her wilderness.

“And what if we do work?”

Incredulous, my mouth dropped open. That was it? ‘And what if we do work’ was Luna’s best attempt to woo me? What kind of persuasive tactic was that? It certainly wasn’t what I needed to hear. The argument that we possibly could work out was shaky logic, at best. I was looking for the perfect reason to leave Ron, and instead, Luna gave me crazy. Ridiculously wild, unpredictable, unguaranteed, untested possibilities. To throw away a loving fiancé, disappoint family and friends, and create a ready-made scandal on a possibility would be insane.

But in the end, it was enough.

Crazy had finally ensnared me.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

So here I am, laying beside her, talking to myself in my head. The old Hermione is my alter ego now. It’s not that I’ve changed completely, but being with Luna has affected everything. She keeps opening me up to new things, and with each new experience I feel a little of my old self slipping away. But when Luna isn’t accessible, old Hermione is a good imaginary friend.

Because I am, as Ron so bluntly put it, mental.

Oh yes, that was a nasty affair, the way I ended the engagement. I waited much too late to look Ron in the eye and tell him I was bent and in love with Luna. Just the memory of his distraught face breaks my heart all over again. There was a moment afterward when I had doubted what I had done. He had just stood there, as if he were waiting for me to come to my senses. And I had to force myself to turn away. I remember feeling my heart pounding in my chest, and my rational mind screaming for me to go back, to not abandon a sane relationship to pursue something unstable, untested, and completely mental.

But I kept walking.

I do feel bad for Ron and his family, and my parents too. They’re all terribly confused and disappointed with the recent news. Luna and I moved to Scotland. I left school to take a coveted apprenticeship in Runic magic under a distinguished Celtic witch, and Luna is pursuing a career in veterinary magical creature care.

I do believe our friends and family will get over it, and if they really love me, they’ll even learn to accept it. Because I’m in love with Luna Lovegood. And yes, she’s a little crazy, which means I am too.

But there are worse things than being crazy in love, or being crazy and in love. For instance, a person could spend their entire life pretending to be someone they’re not in order to please others. Their soul dying a little each day as they suffer in a miserable existence.

Now that would be completely insane.


End file.
